Erase My Scars
by xbloodlustangelx
Summary: One Shot for Harry Potter Descriptive Challege. Short peek into Draco's mind right after the war. I may continue on to make this a multi-chapter, anyone think I should.


The Challenge: Write a descriptive fanfic _**without using dialogue**_

Additional challenge: use random prompts within your fanfic.

my prompts: carved, poisonous, flawless, ash, to disintegrate, to push.

Broke inside, this life you can never be reborn with in…

Ash eyes lifted to stare in the mirror, funny a little more than a year ago he would have never fathomed he'd look into a mirror a think of his eyes as ash. Silver yes… maybe dove on a bad day, but never ash. More than a year ago he'd look in the mirror and see, silver eyes surrounded by raven fringe to make his orbs all the more piercing and evocative. A cupids bow mouth, tinged with just the perfect amount of pink to offset his creamy complexion, high pronounced cheek bones, a regal arched brow, smooth forehead, a patrician's nose often turned up in disgust, and a straight strong jaw. His platinum hair would be cut in a precise manner to perfectly frame his flawless face.

Now… now ash is all he saw, his eye color hadn't changed, still the same shade of gray that he'd been born with, but if you asked him, he'd call them ash now. He was far too tainted and tarnished for such frivolous terms as dove or silver to ever pertain to him again. Ash, like the rubble of Hogwarts after the war. Ash, like the remnants of the bodies that lay still when all was said and done, and all of it, all of it was his fault, on his hands.

Hands that now clutched the white porcelain sink in the prefect bathroom. How they had let him return to finish out his last year, he didn't know. Something about a good word from Potter and a letter left behind by Dumbledore, had made it possible. He didn't have a wand yet, his old one was lost forever it seemed, and with all that had gone on in the war they'd never gotten around to getting him a new one, it made Charms class harder, but he didn't care.

The even bigger mystery was why did he return? He was met with hate and animosity at every turn. Never a moment went by when he didn't get a poisonous glare or an anonymous push in the hallway. Well he knew why he did it, because he was punishing himself for everything he did wrong. Each glare, each shove was a small reprimand he bared, but he thought it would slow down after a few months. Everyone would realize that he had changed, he did defect at the end of the war, and he wasn't truly a monster.

They didn't stop, they didn't get worse but they hadn't decreased in any way, and it was already half way through the year. How much could he take, how long would it take for them to really see…that each glare, each venomous word, each jostle in the hallway, broke him just that tiny bit more. That little pieces of him were disintegrating away right before their eyes. That if they didn't come to their senses and see reason, see how he was trying to change, trying to be better, he'd soon disappear all together.

Nimble fingers slipped a little further down the rim of the sink, and his eyes caught it then, as more of his forearm was brought into view. The dark, swirling pattern carved into his skin. His once flawless skin had been poisoned with this dark, horrifyingly permanent reminder of how low he had fallen.

The Dark Mark… forever in his skin, always a part of him, no wonder no one trusted him at school, who could blame them, he was branded as evil. Dumbledore was dead because of him and Potter's words only helped with his own closest friends, and even then… they didn't really trust him.

His fingers shot out, gripping the silver faucet, he turned, the water shooting on at full blast, the steam rising eerily in the air as warning of its temperature. Draco didn't pay it any heed as he brought his arm under the scalding geyser. It seared his skin but that didn't stop his other hand from rubbing at the dark mark, trying with everything in him to rub that horrible reminder away. His skin grew pink under his fingers but the mark was still there. He furiously began scraping at his skin with his nails, the skin becoming red, and beginning to rise from the scratches and burning, but still it was there.

He didn't realize he was crying till everything got blurry on him and he looked up into the god damn mirror again and saw his face. Ash eyes with raven fringe trapping crystalline tears within them looked back at him. But they were hollow, hollow like his cheeks. His mouth was set in a grim line, his skin was no longer creamy, it was sallow, and there were dark bags under his eyes. Aside from the crystal tear tracks coursing down his face, he looked like a corpse, devoid of color, haggard, lifeless. He looked as dead on the outside as he felt on the inside.

The squeak of the door opening behind him had him flipping around, water still dripping down his arm to the floor. Before him stood none other than Potter. He watched silently as Potter's eyes took in the whole scene, the steaming water, the evidence of tears still upon Draco's face, the state of his arm, the red and blistered skin that had started to bleed. They didn't miss a thing as viridian eyes locked with his. The sound of the water pouring out of the faucet filled the air as they stood and stared, Potter unable to find the right words to say, and Draco too proud to want to hear them.

Then Potter moved forward, footsteps echoing ominously off the tiled walls. He stopped just a foot away and reached into his robe, and distantly Draco hoped he was getting his wand out to put him out of his misery forever. End all of this turmoil and pain once and for all. But the wand Potter pulled out of his robe wasn't his own, no it was ten inches of Hawthorn wood, polished to perfection and Draco would have bet his life that what lay in its core was a unicorn hair. Potter grabbed the hand from his undamaged arm and roughly placed the hilt in his hand, before stepping back.

Draco's eyes hadn't been able to stay upon Potter once his sleek wand had been exposed; his eyes had been wide and glued to the dark wood as it was laid into his palm. His fingers clutched it softly, remembering the weight and feel of it. As that wood hit his palm he felt… fuller, like an amputee who'd been granted the miracle of having his limb again. He felt… complete. His eyes lifted to look at Potter, thank him for the gift the boy would have no idea meant so much to him. It wasn't just his wand he'd returned… it was a little bit of hope.

He had a strong urge to hug the boy, but as his eyes lifted he stared into nothing more than empty space. In his trance like stare at his own wand once again in his hand, the boy had made his exit and given him something he never dared he'd ever have again… his dignity.

Fight, this time, Inside, take a break from the lie you live…

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, I'm tempted to continue out and maybe try my hand at a Drarry fic. Anyone think I should?


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